


Snowball's Chance

by Tassos



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Cuddling & Snuggling, Happy, M/M, No Sex, Pre-Slash, Snowed In, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassos/pseuds/Tassos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day trip to the mountains turns into an overnight stay when a snow storm closes the roads. Of course there's a snowball fight, and of course Stiles is cold and wet when he gets back to the cabin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowball's Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks to majoline who assures me I don't have to write a novel around this scene.

Stiles's teeth start to chatter at a particularly violent gust of wind, and the snow is starting to stick to him now. Since he's not a werewolf radiator Stiles trudges back to their cabin on the other side of the campgrounds. It's pretty much dark now, with the cloud cover killing the sunset, and Stiles is the only one still outside. All the other cabins are lit up. He thinks about going to the owner's cabin to see if there's food, but the cold has started to seep into his bones now, and he just wants out of his wet clothes before he gets hypothermia. Only problem is that because their day trip turned into an unexpected overnight stay, he doesn't have any dry clothes to change into.

Their cabin's lights are on and Derek's there when Stiles goes inside. The stove is blazing and it's warmer than outdoors, but it's not enough to stop his shivering as Stiles kicks off his shoes and peels off his jacket. He can't feel his toes or fingers at all.

"What happened to you?" Derek is on the bed he's sharing with Isaac, a creased paper back book in his hands.

"Snowball fight." Stiles says shortly, wondering where the hell he's been because there was no way Derek could have missed the all out snow war the college kids in one of the other cabins organized. Since everyone was stuck there till the foot of snow was cleared from the roads, it had seemed like a good idea to take advantage of it. It was fun, right up until Isaac dumped Stiles into a drift and Scott stuffed snow down his shirt.

Stiles reaches his fingers toward the stove and holds them just above the hot surface. "Where did you get a book?"

"Coffee shop in town had a free shelf," says Derek, getting up. "Where are Scott and Isaac?"

Stiles shrugs, not wanting to get into it. Now that he's in front of the stove he doesn't want to move. His front is getting toasty warm while his back is still freezing. The clammy clothes aren't helping but it's like his muscles have called it quits and decided to stiffen up all of a sudden. His cold fingers are starting to prickle painfully as they warm up.

"They ran off in the woods," he says and glances at Derek to see if he's going to go running after them. That would be great because then Stiles could get out of his clothes and not freeze to death. 

"Why? Did they see something?" Derek goes to the door and opens it, letting in a blast of cold air that sets Stiles to shivering again.

"No. Shut the door. It's freezing."

"Then why did they run off?" Derek doesn't close the door, just looks over his shoulder at Stiles all tense and ready to make a run for it, and why is Stiles stopping him from running after them?

"You know what? You should go after them." Stiles has warmed up enough that crossing his arms actually makes him colder. "Go run and hunt them down before they get eaten by that other pack."

Derek raises an eyebrow at his tone, but steps outside, finally closing the fucking door. With him gone, Stiles is still cold, still has nothing to change into and he is so over this impromptu camping trip. He turns back to the stove, really not looking forward to peeling off his clothes, then jumps out of his skin when the door slams open and closed again.

"They aren't far," says Derek.

"Jesus! Don't do that!" Stiles spins around again.

Derek gives him another look and sits back on his bed, picking up the book he'd been reading.

"You're not worried about them running into the other pack's territory?" Stiles says snidely, because he'd sure been mad about it last night. Since they were more than a hundred miles from Beacon Hills, they'd called Derek for the rescue when the Jeep had a flat tire and dented bumper instead of his dad or Scott's mom. He'd come, got them the cabin when the snow rolled in, and then yelled at them for not knowing information about other packs magically imparted from his brain.

"I told them we were stuck here because of the storm."

"I think they know that. Wait," Derek wasn't talking about Scott and Isaac. "You talked to the other pack? That's where you went today?" 

"I went into town and called from the post office," says Derek, looking up. "Then I checked on the Jeep -- you're going to have a hell of a bill, by the way, and you'll need to get a new spare and chains before you drive it home -- and then I came back here and checked out the area." He nods toward the woods outside, as if prowling through empty woods in the middle of a blizzard were completely normal. "Why'd they run off?"

"They had to go pee on some trees," says Stiles. Derek just stares at him, and Stiles glares back because since when does Derek care. 

Derek breaks first with an annoyed huff. "Fine don't tell me, but anytime you make dog jokes about Scott, you're mad at him."

And this was the problem with hanging around Derek. The guy might not be the best at knowing what to say, but he still notices things. He's actually pretty good at noticing, even if he's completely stupid about it, as he demonstrates a second later by standing and telling Stiles, "You're cold."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Yes, I'm cold, dumb ass. What gave it away?"

Derek gives him a look that's part derision, part questioning Stiles's intelligence and walks over to him, picking up his wet jacket from where Stiles left it on the floor and hanging it on the back of the chair. 

"You're never going to get warm in all that," he waves at the wet clothes Stiles is still wearing, and Stiles stares back at him because one, duh, and two, this is not the boys locker room and he is not getting naked in front of Derek. Just no. That was the whole point of sending him out after Scott and Isaac.

Except apparently he is because Derek is pulling the wool blanket off of the bed Stiles shared with Scott and throwing it at his head. "Here, strip. I'm not getting shot by your dad because you catch pneumonia out here."

"That's a myth."

"What, pneumonia?"

"No, getting sick because you're wet and cold."

Derek shrugs like he could care less and goes back to his bed and his book. And seriously, Derek reads? He stretches out and finds his place.

"Stiles, change already. Your chattering teeth are driving me nuts," Derek says without looking up.

Since Stiles really is freezing, he does. Keeping half an eye on Derek, Stiles pulls off his flannel and his t-shirt, and wraps the blanket around himself before wiggling out of his jeans and boxers. The blanket scratches but it's already better, warmth seeping in and staying. He sits in front of the stove and just basks.

The cabin is quiet except for Derek turning pages, and it's not long before Stiles's curiosity starts killing him and he gets up again to see what Derek is reading.

" _Lord of the Flies_? Really?"

"It explains so much about teenagers," says Derek deadpan.

"You're just returning to your roots," says Stiles, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You would have totally eaten Piggy right away."

Derek looks up, eyebrows raised, and stares that intense, can-see-right-through-you stare that used to be really intimidating until he over-used it on Stiles and now it's only somewhat uncomfortable. 

"What? Big bad wolf! Piggy! You'll huff and you'll puff and blow that shit in." Stiles pokes at him with a blanket covered fist, and that's when he realizes that he's sitting less than a foot away from Derek Hale pretty much naked. 

The stove. He should totally go back over there where it is much warmer with lots of distance between them before this pause gets any more awkward. He's starts to get up when Derek speaks.

"That's really how you see me?" The question is impossible to read because Derek is a fucking robot half the time, and Stiles wants to ask what the fuck does he mean because that is, like, Derek's whole persona. Except then he thinks of last night how they were four people stuck in a cabin with two twin beds and Derek curled around Isaac, and how he sometimes asks randomly how Stiles's is doing, and that he took Erica and Boyd back without any questions -- only he doesn't get to say any of that because as he's trying to stand up he steps on the tail of the blanket and falls over onto the floor. 

It's classic Stiles circa eighth grade, embarrassing and kind of reassuringly normal. And cold because the blanket slips to his waist. It gets worse when Derek leans over the side of the bed and smirks at him, eyebrows raised again, but this time they're laughing at Stiles. Stiles shivers and it isn't entirely from the cold.

But he takes Derek's hand when he offers it, carefully holding onto the blanket as he gets up, and sits back down on the bed. Derek's hand is really warm, and for a second, Stiles wonders what it would be like if Derek were curled around him instead of Isaac.

Bad thoughts. Bad, bad thoughts. While Stiles knows he's not attractive to gay guys, that doesn't mean he's not attracted to them, and finding out how Derek feels about the matter is not something that's on his to do list. Ever. Or at least not when he's in the same room as Derek. Sitting next to him.

"You're still cold," Derek comments when he lets go.

"It's not exactly a hot box in here," says Stiles, and the awkward is back, because Derek is looking at him like he knows what Stiles is thinking, and that is so not fair because Derek is terrible at people, he should have no idea. Stiles keeps talking. "In fact it's more like a lukewarm box, since it's clearly warmer than outside, but then my refrigerator is warmer than it is outside. And unlike some people, I don't generate enough heat to power a furnace on my own." He can't help it when his eyes flicker down to Derek's chest, which Derek of course notices, but the real surprise is when he takes Stiles's hand again and tugs.

"Come on then," he says.

"What?" 

"I'm offering to be a furnace. Relax, you're not Piggy." He tugs again and it's not like Stiles has a choice, or that he's fighting very hard because Derek is really warm, and muscular and hot and, oh god this is actually happening and it's such a bad bad idea. Stiles is going to the special hell for this. Or Derek is. One of them is going to hell for this. But Stiles doesn't push away, and Derek just wraps an arm around his waist, warm and solid and heavy. His other arm under fits under Stiles's neck, still holding the book.

"Seriously, you're going to keep reading?" Stiles latches on to the distraction that is Derek's forearm in his face and the book hovering over his shoulder. He can't see the page from this angle and lifting his head doesn't help. "Why did you pick such a crappy book anyway?"

"It was this or _How to Lose Fifty Pounds in Thirty Days_ ," says Derek, pushing Stiles's head back down. 

"This is so not fair," says Stiles to cover the amount tension he's feeling at being spooned by Derek. Derek can probably tell anyway, but Stiles really wants to pretend that this is normal, nothing to see here. On the plus side, he's actually warming up and he has to suppress the urge to wiggle even closer.

"I could read it aloud," says Derek.

"Please, no," says Stiles, which gets him a huff of air on his ear that it just not fair. Derek kind of hums an acknowledgement and doesn't move his arm from Stiles's face because he's a jerk. They're not pressed flush together. It's more of a loose embrace, but it's still way more intimate than anything Stiles has had in a while. Or ever. With another person. "So is this a werewolf thing?"

"What is?"

"You know, this." He waves a hand that clearly indicates the cuddling going on here. "You did it with Isaac last night."

Derek's grip loosens. "If you don't want-"

"No, it's fine," says Stiles quickly, because he doesn't want to get up or anything. He likes the closeness, the warmth, the fact that Derek just _offered_ and is being weirdly not weird about it. "I just didn't expect it, is all."

And apparently, Derek doesn't expect that because the book wilts in his hand and he's quiet for a while. But he does pull Stiles closer with his other hand, his chest now firmly pressed against Stiles's back. "You never answered my question."

"What question?" Stiles is hyperaware of every place they touch.

"If you really think I'd just eat Piggy."

It's on the tip of Stiles's tongue to say yes, see exhibits shoving Stiles into walls through trying to kill Jackson, but it's been months since all of that, and when they were fighting the alpha pack, Derek didn't threaten Stiles once. And that's kind of weird now that he thinks about it because that's not how he thinks about Derek at all. Derek is the muscle, the master of bad ideas, his way or the highway. But somewhere in the chaos of supernatural problems and junior year starting in the last few months, that's not quite the way things always worked out. 

Stiles has a half formed thought that he isn't sure of it until the words come out of his mouth. "I think you'd take Piggy aside and offer him the bite. You kind of have a thing for taking the weakest and least able to cope and giving them superpowers."

"We cope," says Derek quietly. Stiles is about to retort, but Derek goes on. "You should come over more often and you'd see," he says.

Stiles twists. "Did you just invite me over to your apartment? To voluntarily spend time in your space?"

"Yes." Derek says, shoving Stiles back around, like he doesn't want to admit it, which is a serious mixed message considering that he's asking while cuddled up to Stiles in the middle of a snowstorm.

"Is that a werewolf thing, too? I didn't think humans were part of the whole pack bonding. You haven't been exactly welcoming."

Derek's quiet again, and when he speaks his voice sticks a little. "There were humans in my family."

Stiles has a moment of feeling bad, again, for accidentally tripping over another reminder when Derek's words and not just what he said penetrate. "Oh," he says, his brain going still for once. _Family_.

That just . . . Stiles never thought to think about Derek's pack that way.

"So are you . . ." He can't quite say, "inviting me to join your family," because that just sounds weird and Stiles doesn't even know what to do with that. He wouldn't have called them friends exactly, except for how they keep saving each other and argue and sometimes Derek pays for research with food.

"You should just come over more," Derek says, irritation now lacing his tone like that's the end of it. But the arm curled around Stiles's middle is tense. Derek's holding him warm and close, and Stiles feels wanted, even if it's partly a wolfy thing and partly a people thing, which isn't all that odd really when he thinks about it because werewolves are somewhere in the middle anyway.

"Okay," says Stiles, and to his own surprise, he means it. It explains a lot, really. Isaac, for one, and why he stays with Derek without complaining even though he hangs with Scott all the time. Why Derek took Erica and Boyd back. He's always wondered about that given Derek and Scott's unresolved issues over Scott's plan for Gerard. 

Still, it's the last thing he ever expected to hear from Derek. "So this means you actually like me, right?" he asks to clarify.

"Yes," Derek says, like he doesn't but has to say he does. He shifts again, this time swapping the book to his other hand and curling the arm under Stiles around him instead. Somehow it's even more intimate, like he's trying to make Stiles comfortable too, like Stiles just fits into this space next to Derek. He hadn't really thought a lot about fitting into Derek's life before in more than the we-must-work-together-or-we'll-die capacity. And now, held so close, Stiles can't help but think of the other ways they could fit together, where they're already touching, and would Derek notice if he presses closer and, oh god, that is a bad idea.

He clears his throat and tries to think about things that won't end in abject humiliation. Derek doesn't seem to notice. "Seriously? You're really going to read?"

"Shut up, Stiles."

"You should know me well enough by now to know I'm not going to do that." 

"I live in hope," says Derek.

"Ha ha. Like I haven't heard that before. You should just give up now and entertain me."

"Isaac and Scott are coming back."

Stiles frowns. "I don't want to talk about them."

"No," Derek shifts behind him again. "I mean they're back now."

And just when Stiles was getting warm, too. He gives in to the urge to press closer to Derek, just for a second, which ends up stretching to a minute before he hears the two pairs of feet stamping up the steps to the cabin door. He's so not ready for them to come back, and he's so not ready to deal with Scott right now. But the door opens with a blast of cold air, and with a sigh, Stiles sits up, Derek's hand trailing to his hip. 

When he glances down, Derek's eyes are slightly wide as he looks back at Stiles, like he hadn't been expecting the extra cuddle. Stiles has to look away before he blushes. "Visit more, huh?" he says.

Derek doesn't answer, but he squeezes Stiles's hip before pushing him off the bed and asking Isaac if that's dinner they brought in with them.

Stiles takes it as a yes.


End file.
